Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Branded in One Week... and Flashpoint Fangs

Shapeshifter lovers, shapeshifting in a moment or two... after this yippee, yahoo announcement. In just ONE week BRANDED BY THE TEXANS will be sprung free from Siren-BookStrand... yep, on August 2, 2010. Here’s the blurb ~

What can three Texans do to a woman’s body and heart?
Kylie is about to find out.
Beyond her wildest dreams.
On a parallel Earth.

It’s 2009... Kylie is on the run from the law for a crime she didn’t commit. A promising doctoral student, she’s lost everyone and almost everything, except for what she stows in her car. Now, Kylie has to salvage the rest of her life. But, where in this age of GPS tracking, TV’s Most Wanted and cameras everywhere?

It’s 2009... Dillon, Dono and Dash are three brothers desperate for a wife to brand as their own. The Union made women scarce in the Three Star Republic by releasing a bio weapons’ plague during the border wars. These tough-as-leather Texans will do anything to keep the right woman, even if they have to lasso her like a wild filly and love on her until she loves them back.

Warning! Violence and horror ahead..

The Dream Thief ~ Flashpoint Fangs

I am a hater of lies, injustice and the tyranny way. Who am I? I could be your worst nightmare or your sweetest dream. Your sweetest, most erotic dream if you’re a woman. For the sake of time, I’ll leave further descriptions of myself for later.

Right now, I’m near Elko, Nevada standing atop a large rise of dust-dry ground surrounded by furry-looking cactus. Not my normal habitat I can tell you. Only partly hidden by the shadows from enormous boulders, I scan the vast land before me, using what appear to be expensive binoculars. Of course, they’re much more.

I don’t see them yet. I sense them, the herd of wild horses two of my alien friends have talked me into helping them save. Horses aren’t my thing. Except for Trail, my western-bars carousing buddy, and he doesn’t shift into a horse around me. That human mate of his, Seneca, has a gorgeous tail with no tail, and would be described as delicious devouring flame on my side of the dimension.

So far, my buddy’s mate puts up with me. I make certain to charm her softest heart. If I’m honest with myself, it was the pleading in her eyes that really got me on board. That is, after my best friend, Kytaira, tigress shifter extraordinaire, nipped my ear for several minutes with her husky-sexy convincing words. She’s on her way to D.C., with Zurroc in tow – her ferocious as a warrior dragon, not-to-be-trifled with black tiger. They intend to make a deadly claw-strike for the sake of justice, probably several slashing strikes that are certain to become crimson-red gushers, erupting like Gaia’s blood continues to do in the Gulf.

Forgive my vampiric fantasy, if you will. But, I picture rivers of blood pouring down the stone-gleaming capital steps as the full moon righteously observes from her darkened-sky realm. Lifeblood drains from the bodies of all those who have chosen to sell their soul to BP, to the Beelzebub Princes.

Yeah, I snark to myself... enough vital fluid to feed an army of Black Castle Vampires, but those vids would never make it on CNN. Unless THEY, Earth’s shadow government, could manufacture a cover story fast enough, one that would push their agenda.

Here I stand, baking in the late morning sun for another reason, as well. I can’t abide the cruelty of the BLM thugs who value blood money over their souls. And, I know about souls. A lot. No, I’m not an angel. Nor, am I a demon. Although, there are those who enthusiastically classify me as one of Satan’s select crew.

I watch the cloud of dust in the far distance. Chased by helicopters, the large herd of horses runs frantically. I scent their heart-pounding fear. I feel their panicked desperation as they race to escape their tormentors. They are hungry, having been herded for days with little rest and with no chance to graze. Their thirst gnaws at them like relentless talons.

I turn cold inside with my hatred. My fangs elongate slowly as I wait to play my part in saving them, the wild horses. Even though the sun does nothing for my complexion, I am not an official vampire. Hard to explain that one, especially given the violence I am about to perform on the lead helicopter pilot.

As the curtain of shimmer appears nearby, I know Trail has been successful at what I call dimensional dial-up. For mere moments the running horses will disappear into a parallel Earth, then emerge at a haven he and Seneca have created near their ranch. Yeah, I helped my buddy place light-mirror shields so the herd won’t be spotted on their new range.

Close to exhaustion, the sweat-darkened horses gallop slower and slower, the dust cloud diminishing around them. The BLM bastards don’t care how many of them collapse and die a grisly death on the desert floor. With their labored breathing harsh in my ears, my rage shoots toward the moon.

I drop my pretend binoculars, knowing they will return to my Las Vegas apartment. Time for action. My fangs lengthen to flashpoint, as it’s known in my race’s corner of this multi-layered dimension. White and shiny as porcelain, they flash in the sunlight as I stream my lighter-than-air form toward the first helicopter. The needle-like points are below my chin as I gel myself through the front of the copter.

Think ‘The Abyss’ meets Aladdin’s djinni.

“What the fuck!” The pilot rears back as much as his seat allows. With his features carved by beyond-belief shock, he lets go of the controls. The copter drops, then begins to stabilize.

I smile before I stab my fangs into the throbbing pulse of his neck. Blood spurts while I lock my jaws. Simultaneously, his every dream, his every nightmare downloads into my psyche. I am a dream thief for the sake of my world.

Twisting briefly, I tear his head off, so it hits the side of the helicopter, then bounces onto his lap. The man beside him is frozen against his seat, as if he’s been dumped in the middle of the Arctic.

I gaze at him and slowly grin, displaying my formidable fangs. He silently screams, his face so distorted I doubt his own family would recognize him. His hand searches wildly and finds the door latch. To torment him, I lean closer and glow my eyes in an imitation of a Hollywood werewolf.

His heart nearly stops. I hear the cessation of its beat. With terror moving his limbs, he launches out of the copter. As he falls, his terrified screams slice through the dry air. No, he’s not wearing a parachute.

I sprout sinister-looking dark wings, even as I place my hand on the helicopter and transform it into particles that will reassemble inside my bat cave. Okay, if you must know, I’ve always had a fondness sort of thing for Batman.

Flapping my giant wings like a pterodactyl – Roy, my pterodactyl shifter buddy would be so proud – I wheel toward the nearest copter. The pilot performs a jerky hasty retreat. He speeds up too quickly and the engine gurgles with protest, almost failing.

I streak toward him, his fear fueling my fun. Forming a pair of evil-looking talons, I seize the helicopter’s landing skids. Like a buzzard with a prize bone, I wing upwards dragging the copter toward the Ruby Mountains.

Behind me, I hear supersonic thunder. The above-top-secret jets headed toward me are designed to take on races like mine. Their speed splits the atmosphere, the energy waves already washing over me.

Knowing this paranormal-fright show is over, I toss the helicopter, dashing it against the face of the closest mountain. No, I spared the humans’ lives. This time. Besides, someone has to tell this tale as a warning against such greedy and wicked cruelty.

Because if this tale isn’t told... if this truth is left unsaid, their dreams will cease. Night terrors will possess their sleep... I guaran-hell-tee-it. It is, after all, one of my jobs here.


Savanna Kougar

~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~

Author of ~

All Shades of Blue Paradise
Red Lioness Tamed
When a Good Angel Falls ~ In Print
Tangerine Carnal Dreams
Murder by Hair Spray in Gardenia, New Atlantis ~ In Print
Black Cat Beauty
Her Insatiable Dark Heroes ~ In Print
Stallion of Ash and Flame ~ In Print
Branded by the Texans ~ Coming in *August 2, 2010* from Siren-BookStrand
The Tiger’s Masquerade ~ Coming from MojoCastle Press


Serena Shay said...

Nice!! If he can do that to the shameful horse wranglers, I'd be a willing host to those sweetly erotic dreams he promises a lady!!

Congrats on Branded! One week, woot!

Savanna Kougar said...

Serena, at least, he gets to do something to stop them.

And, yeah, erotic dreams... of course, if he finds that one dreamer... hmmmm...

Branded, I'm gearing up!

Pat C. said...

Whoa! How do you come up with this stuff? Yet another fascinating character erupts full-blown from your keyboard. I wish you'd complete one of these. We never get to see how they end.

I see you've also discovered the joys of a shared universe. Will Trail be making an appearance?

Naturally I want to know more about Roy, the ptero-shifter. You looked up Sauron on the Marvel site, didn't you?

Big congrats on Branded! Yippee-ki-yay!

Savanna Kougar said...

Pat, I meant to look up Sauron, actually... but, everything is so discombobulated in my life... anyway, just did a pic search... my goodness, I can see why he would appeal to a gal... what a man-ptero...

I've just always liked pterodactyls, every since I saw a representative pic of one as a kid.

Which version of Sauron's appearance do you prefer?

Yeah, I'm liking this shared universe, and I would certainly include Trail and Seneca... and, probably, Kytaira and Zurroc.

I have say, from an ego perspective, this last line-edit go around for Branded... as I said on my bloggie... BLASTED EYEBALL SYNDROME... and the way my heroine and her heroes hearts and souls entwine gets me in my soft spots.

Pat C. said...

I asked because Marvel's Sauron was created by writer Roy Thomas back in the late '60s, and you named your were-ptero Roy. It just seemed an odd coincidence.

Personally, I think the artists make him look too bulky. A winged character will probably have a high metabolism and run more skinny than muscular.

Savanna Kougar said...

Okay, Pat... doo-doo, that is a weird coincidence. As I was writing, I thought of you and a ptero as my heroes wings emerged. His name simply popped into my head, Roy... then, I thought of Roy Rogers and I thought, geez, what ptero wants to be called Roy, but the character persisted, demanded... so, Roy, it was...

Hmmmm... you could be right. A sleeker less-muscled physique would probably be the way to go... you could have a scene where your sleeker ptero out-fights the big heavily muscled dude.